The sound of cicadas faded beneath the rising chorus of festival chatter. Lanterns swayed in the humid night air, casting golden ripples of light across the crowded shrine grounds.
Reina walked up the long torii stairs, each step carrying her into a realm that felt far removed from her usual life of cold laboratories and humming machines. At the top, the festival sprawled before her like a painting—rows of colorful stalls selling kakigōri and candied apples, children running with paper fans, couples strolling in yukata hand-in-hand, and laughter echoing through the summer night.
Her own figure, draped in the black-and-white kimono her mother had insisted on lending, cut through the crowd like a calm wave through noisy waters. A small embroidered hand bag hung neatly over her arm.
And yet, wherever she walked, the crowd seemed to part instinctively. Whispers stirred, and glances lingered, but no one dared block her path. Reina noticed, though she tried not to think too much of it. If they moved, she walked. That was all.
But to others, her presence was something different—something ethereal. White hair flowing down to her waist, sharp black eyes that glinted beneath the paper lantern glow, and the faint shimmer of her halo above her head. To them, it wasn't a girl walking among them—it was as if a deity had descended to the festival, curious enough to sample human joys.
Reina, of course, was oblivious. She was only searching.
Her gaze finally landed on the stage, where Shion was giving directions, his voice cutting over the din as workers adjusted cables and moved equipment. Reina's lips curved slightly, a small smile of recognition. Of course. Everything was in order. Efficient. Predictable.
She tugged lightly on the sleeve of his yukata. "Evening," she said, her cold, direct tone slicing through his concentration.
Shion almost jumped but quickly steadied himself, flashing her a grin. "Reina. You came. Perfect timing." He gestured toward the back of the stage. "Come. Let me show you."
They stepped into the small operations room tucked behind the curtains. Reina's eyes swept across the countless computers, amplifiers, equalizers, and mixers stacked along the walls. Dozens of LED lights blinked, and the soft thrum of electricity filled the space.
Reina exhaled slowly, a sigh. She hadn't expected this much equipment.
"...This will take forever," she muttered.
Not bothering with further complaint, she lifted her hand. "ANIER."
Her halo drifted forward, leaving its place above her head to float toward the center of the room. Holographic projections spread like threads of light, weaving through every machine and console. Data windows flickered into existence, streams of numbers pouring across translucent screens as synchronization began.
Moments later, the halo slid back into place above Reina's head.
"Done," ANIER's voice echoed.
Reina brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "That should simplify things."
Shion's eyes widened, impressed. "You're incredible."
Reina ignored the compliment, stepping out to test. With a simple lift of her finger, the stage lights flared brighter. Lowering her hand dimmed them into soft shadows. A subtle tilt shifted the colors, bleeding red into blue.
She lowered her hand entirely. "It's better than I thought," she admitted.
Shion nodded approvingly. "Then you deserve a seat. Come with me."
He led her out to the audience area, past rows of already-filling seats. At the very center of the front row, a single extravagant chair had been prepared—slightly raised, cushioned, with a clear view of the stage.
Reina's lips pressed into a thin line. She looked at the seat. Then at the people around. Then back at the seat.
"…This is too much," she said flatly. "I'll sit with the others."
Shion shook his head firmly. "It's already decided. Everyone here wants you in this seat. Trust me."
Reina's gaze swept the nearby faces. Strangers glanced at her, waiting. No one argued. In fact, some even looked hopeful.
With a reluctant sigh, she sank into the seat. "Fine. But I don't like it."
Shion smirked, satisfied, before heading back toward the stage.
Now left alone, Reina folded her hands neatly over her lap. She tried to ignore the stares, tried to focus only on the anticipation of the performance. But then—
"Um…"
Tiny fingers tugged lightly at her sleeve. Reina turned her head and blinked. A group of children stood there, wide-eyed. One little girl pressed her palms together and whispered, "Can you… bless me?"
Reina froze. "...What?"
Another boy clasped her hand in both of his, as if in prayer. One by one, the kids leaned forward, waiting, their expressions hopeful.
For a moment, Reina thought of brushing them off. She wasn't here for this. She wasn't… anyone holy.
But this was Shion's night. She couldn't cause a scene.
So, with a small sigh, she rested her hand gently atop the girl's head. "...Alright. Blessing."
The child's face lit up instantly. The others followed, each receiving a soft touch or quiet nod from Reina, before bowing deeply to her and running off into the crowd, laughing and chattering about "the goddess."
Reina stared after them, utterly bewildered. "…Kids," she murmured, pinching the bridge of her nose.
And yet, despite herself, the corner of her lips curved upward. Just slightly.
The music would begin soon. And she, seated at the very heart of it all, couldn't help but wonder—
Why did this festival suddenly feel like it was waiting for her?
Reina's fingers brushed lightly across the air as her contact lens HUD flickered one last time. She peered into the cascading layers of code and diagnostics, double-checking, then triple-checking the safety parameters and system confirmation. Every node blinked green. Every channel synced perfectly with ANIER's steady hum.
"…Stable," she whispered, closing the window.
The world shifted. One by one, the lanterns along the shrine dimmed, until the entire festival grounds fell into quiet darkness. Murmurs swept through the crowd, but Reina simply adjusted her kimono sleeves and leaned back. She shut her HUD completely, black eyes now fixed only on the stage.
It was starting.
A faint rustle, a soft vibration in the air—and then music bloomed. Not from speakers alone, but from the careful harmony of hands, bows, and breath.
On stage stood not only Shion but many familiar faces—students from the music club, dressed in yukata, their instruments gleaming under the faint moonlight. Violins swayed gently, keyboards shimmered with soft chords, and the steady pulse of drums built a heartbeat beneath it all. The tones were gentle, deliberate—an orchestral piece painted with summer's warmth.
Reina's breath caught.
Her body sank into the seat, tension bleeding away as the music melted into her. The strings wrapped around her chest, the percussion echoed like footsteps on a distant path.
And then, almost unconsciously, her eyes fluttered shut.
She drifted backward—past the stage, past the lanterns, past the festival—into memory.
A night long ago. A child sitting cross-legged beside her mother, the summer grass cool against her skin. Above them, stars scattered endlessly across the velvet sky.
"See that one?" her mother whispered, pointing.
Reina remembered lifting her small hand, fingers spread, reaching toward the glittering light. Her chest swelled with the same impossible desire she carried now.
"I want to go there," she had said.
Even when people laughed. Even when they told her it was impossible.
It didn't matter.
Years of practice. Years of study. Years of isolation. Pushing, climbing, building, failing, rising again. She had carried the dream alone, holding it tight in her chest as though it might vanish if she ever let go.
And yet—
She wasn't alone anymore.
Names drifted through her mind, each one a spark in the darkness: Hana. Kaito. Ayumi. Sei. Ren. Arisa. Mei. Himari.
One by one, their images flickered through her thoughts—their laughter in class, the way they called her name, the warmth of their hands brushing hers. They had stayed, even when she tried to remain untouchable.
Her lips curved, soft and trembling.
"…I see."
The music rose, strings swelling, keys shimmering like water. A single tear slipped down her cheek, catching the lantern glow. She didn't wipe it away.
It was moving her in a way she hadn't thought possible.
Shion's music—no, their music—was worth it.
Reina leaned back, halo faintly glowing as if echoing her heart.
For the first time in a long while, she felt something break open inside her chest. Not the endless drive toward the stars. Not the cold silence of solitude.
But a small, fragile warmth.
She smiled through her tears.